Spinning Yarns

That cute wee sheep,
Living in the barn,
When dealt with right
Provides good yarn.

Upon its back
The fleece does grow,
Resembling not
The white of snow.

The sheep is sheared,
It’s fleece the yield,
Then wee sheep
Returns to the field.

The fleece is sorted,
The dung picked out,
Then it’s washed
And laid about.

When all is dry
It’s sorted again,
Then combed & carded.
This is not the end.

Through the fingers
The fibres run,
By the wheel
The yarn is spun.

From the body
Out fingers busy
Runs the stress
That makes life dizzy.

Watch the tension
Count the twist
When you spin
Relax that fist.

Peddle goes up,
Peddle goes down,
Making the wheel
Go round and round.

Shuttles fly,
Bobbins turn,
Spinning is great
With much to learn.

Spin two bobbins,
Maybe three,
Then ply them together,
The results to see.

Now you’re finished
Yet, not time to snooze
With piles of yarn
For you to use.

Written: December 1, 2003